Replacement
by Night Strider
Summary: AU. Rukawa, a freshman, auditions for the school band only to find a growing animosity between him and the front man. RuMitRu. Dedicated to mayfaire. COMPLETE.
1. Win Some, Lose Some

Replacement

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: AU. Rukawa, a freshman, auditions for the school band only to find a growing animosity between him and the front man. RuMitRu. Dedicated to mayfaire. On-going.

Important: Uh, this story is formatted blog-style so I suppose it wouldn't be that original. One of my favorite authors, **Hisashi Loves Yelen** (who is seriously brilliant by the way), has written a fic whose title goes like Mitsui Hisashi's Blog; this is some kind of ripoff of that only this time, the owner of the blog in question is Rukawa Kaede. And yeah, this is dedicated to **mayfaire**, who, like me, is in love with the pairing. Merry Christmas!

Rukawa is EXTREMELY OUT OF CHARACTER here (his mode of speaking is somewhat borrowed from mine). I know. I just had to take advantage of the fact that this is an AU fic and thus decided that I could twist Rukawa's attitude a little (okay, a lot). But enjoy.

This is heavily based on the manga **Only the Ring Finger Knows**.

**Chapter I: Win Some, Lose Some**

June the 7th. Wednesday.

First day of school. Day's sunny. Temperature's on the warm side. I decided to take a walk to school instead of typically reinforcing the help of my beautiful swanky bike. I suppose Shohoku is an okay enough high school. Apart from the fact that it lies in a convenient distance from my house, the building isn't as rundown as the rest of the structures that surround it. It seems new enough, maybe fifteen years old downwards, and not quite tasteless in its execution.

I'm bunched together with section 1-7. Room's located in the fourth floor of the building. Maybe forty pupils in one classroom, or more. One teacher at a time. I wonder what he has up his sleeve to get the whole lot lending an ear to his boring lectures. Whatever. Not really my problem.

My first class is Algebra. Back in middle school that subject could be a total bitch. A clear testimony to which is my barely passing mark. I'm not what anyone can call an expert when it comes to numbers and numbers likewise are not expert when it comes to dealing with me. Most of the time I find myself hardly tolerating them and hence, I can only do so much to try to appreciate math.

Second class is Japanese History. Since it's the first day we've only been briefed of the outline and everything. The teacher made a round of roll call and right away proceeded to the preliminaries, which involved checking out how well-versed we all are in general knowledge. Some girl up front seemed to have memorized the whole textbook over the break and at one point it almost got on my nerves, so much so that I nearly walked out of the classroom. Honestly! What good would trivia do?

Science and Technology is next. By the looks of it, it must be every bit as grueling as History. And the schoolmarm of a teacher doesn't look any nicer than the panther at the zoo.

Language is... hunky dory. All we have to do is read this and that material. I'm not illiterate or a slow reader. In fact, reading moods hit me at times, albeit not that frequently. Conclusively, it's not half bad.

And then, I don't know or half care anymore what subjects follow. I can't readily remember. Maybe some other time I would. Besides, whoever finds looking at a course syllabus NOT boring?

Never mind. I can't see why and how senior high school is going to be exciting for me.

June the 12th. Monday.

I should've written something in the last five days but I found updating this blog equally boring. So I postponed. I don't reckon either that narrating details on my academic subjects is remotely interesting. Suffice it to say that they all suck as much as I suck at putting up with them. Besides, there's not a bit of significant news. I mean, yeah there is, but that's only due to the things I missed.

It turned out that there was some sort of audition for the band club last Friday. I missed about all of the publicity because, I don't know. Perhaps I was too busy ignoring everything that was going on around me. So much for cranking up the infamous I-don't-give-a-fuck face. So how did I learn about the audition? To tell you frankly, everyone in the class was all a-buzz about it. And in fact, deep inside, I was too. How could I ever miss it, right? Music is the only thing I can stand for more than a day. And I'm not too bad myself. I used to be in a band in middle school but my last year kind of demanded all my focus and so forced me to resign. My band mates went on in their separate ways. I landed here, scouring in the dark for the sake of redeeming my position.

I play the guitar by the way. Not bass, though I'm more than too good for it. It's just too easy what with the four string fret and the narrow range of notes.

But going back, a second try-out is going to be held on Wednesday. Word has it that majority of the dudes in the first audition are utter geniuses. The club has never seen a better group, this year is yet their best yadda yadda yadda. I wonder how they'll measure me up. As I've said, I'm rather good.

So Wednesday it is. Band club, get ready for your hottest lead guitar player, ever.

June the 14th. Wednesday. Half past midnight

I've been in this school for exactly a week already and I'm about fed up. My only saving grace is the Band Club. I guess you all have been hanging out for that one overhauling experience of my first year in Shohoku.

It went... I'm not sure how to describe it. When I got there were only literally three of us and that's not to mention that I was the only one who was on audition. The other two are already members of the club. The redhead one, who is by the way as smart as that chair, turns out to be a freshman. He's the drummer. He didn't say he is A drummer; he said he is THE drummer. Loud and clear. Then he laughed, boisterously that for the first time in my life I could kill for a pair of fucking ear plugs. According to him, they call him "Tensai"; I have good reason to believe his name is Sakuragi Hanamichi.

The other one shushed him. Though he's in the tall department, he's a few inches shorter than Sakuragi. He has bluish hair and blue eyes, both of which accentuate his fair hue. He has that kind of face that instantly stops traffic, an easily labeled looker. A little, almost invisible scar on his chin. If one looks closely, one invariably realizes that it plays a big part on his perfection. Or so I think.

Conversation more or less went like this:

"I'm Mitsui Hisashi. Senior." The blue-eyed guy stood up to shake my hand. "So what instrument?"

"Guitar. Lead."

"Uh-huh. I see you brought your own." Mitsui said good-naturedly, eying my most prized possession which was still encased in a black leather. "That's good. Shall we rev up, then?"

I remember nodding and retaining my gaze at him for a longer while than necessary. I told him I was going to play Black by Pearl Jam and that this cover of mine would be a different version. The tempo would be faster and there would be a little addition in the chords.

So I played. It was the longest five minutes of my life. Mitsui was raising his right eyebrow every so often while Sakuragi, on the other hand, looked nearly ecstatic. I tried not to steer my glance to their direction, afraid to witness disappointment there. But it occurred to me that there wasn't the slightest cause for them to be disappointed. I killed this song; Sakuragi proclaimed that he digs it. He even asked me for the chords so he could practice it at home. I didn't tell him that the track was exclusively for acoustic performance only and that a drum accompaniment would only ruin the purpose. Whatever.

It's Mitsui Hisashi who bothers me. I mean, "bothers" would be an understatement. I can't quite figure out, even after hours of brooding over it, why there was a sudden shift in his attitude. He was frowning and tutting, which annoyed me. I just don't get it; half a heartbeat ago he was being nice and casual to me. The next moment he was being a complete bitch. Though he didn't say anything, his expression said it all. He doesn't want me in the band and fuck knows why! I did great as far as I'm concerned.

"I'm not sure about--"

"Shit, Mitchy. What are you saying? That has gotta be the best number I've heard off-stage. Will you have your ears checked up?"

"But you do understand that what you heard is a little...how shall I put this? Punk-ish?"

"Punk is variety. What we need is variety. We can't just be grunge relics all the time, can we?" Sakuragi protested. I never would've thought, of all people to fill in the role of my unexpected ally, that it'd be Sakuragi.

"I'm the club officer here; ergo, I decide." Mitsui muttered gingerly while cocking his head. He was speaking as though I weren't there. It just came to me, the screen name "Mitchy the Bitch" would suit him best.

"No, you don't. Why don't we just deliberate it with the rest of the members tomorrow?"

"I don't like him. I doubt if Miyagi and Akagi's opinion would differ." Mitsui clucked his teeth. What a fuckin' line. How dare he! If he thinks I like him, he must be dreaming and sleeping!

"Let's be fair and square and let's not get ahead of ourselves. Ryochin and Gori may agree with you but what about the rest, huh? Forgot them, neh?" Sakuragi said and frantically waved an arm.

"Sakuragi, you're not exactly conforming to the regu--"

"Rukawa, is it?" Sakuragi cut Mitsui short and turned to me. "You're dismissed; you can go back tomorrow same time and we'll have the rest of the club to judge you. Though personally there's no more need of that if it weren't for..." Sakuragi mischievously shot a glance at Mitsui and muttered in staccato, "some assholes here. Anyway, you can go." he patted me on the shoulder. I darted out of the place, feeling as shitty as any day goes. Why the hell does the bastard have to take it so personally?

Shit. I feel like he just made me eat shit.

This is a long post and it makes me utterly sick. I guess this merits a good night sleep.

TBC

A/N: Just so you guys would know, this fic is already done. Yeah. I'll upload the following chapters anytime I'm finished polishing and trimming them down.


	2. Life's a Gamble

Replacement

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: AU. Rukawa, a freshman, auditions for the school band only to find a growing animosity between him and the front man. RuMitRu. Dedicated to mayfaire. On-going.

**Chapter II: Life's a Gamble**

June the 15th, Thursday. 7 p.m. in my bedroom.

It turned out that Mitchy the Bitch is worshipped by everybody. And I mean, everybody; girl, boy, gay, lesbian, ancient, young, fat, thin, deformed, well-proportioned, hot, not. He's the kind of person that impresses people with the two deadliest weapons known to human kind; looks and personality. And that's not to include that he has twice the talent of each guy in the club. He can play anything, from the fucking keyboards down to the vocals. He can form a one-man band anytime and hit it big in the States single-handedly. He's a fucking genius and I'm just me, possibly just a little joke next to him. I'm Rukawa Kaede who is great at the guitars, nothing more, nothing less.

So I guess that's enough permission for him to count me as non-human. Really! A while ago, as I was performing in front of the whole band, he was jerking around the room, opening up song books, pitching Sakuragi's drums sticks everywhere, pissing me off without the slightest sign of shame. I almost let go of my concentration. I almost quit but then I realized that quitting would just give him the satisfaction. Why am I taking shit from him anyway? Well, I took up this challenge. Might as well cling fast to it. He can't win over me.

If you're wondering, I sang the same song with the same reprise and bridge and everything. It's my favorite, needless to say, and I just love the lyrics. Well, wouldn't you have it? The whole band broke into an applause the instant I plucked the last notes. It was an awesome closing. Their reaction simply read overwhelmed.

"I can't believe Mitsui had a hard time listening to you. You had no difficulty with your strumming at all; it's perfect." said Akagi Takenori, the club president. Obviously, he loved my rendition. Take that, Mitchy the Bitch.

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry that Mitsui misclassified you. I'm just glad we took the opportunity to see you."

"That's thanks to Sakuragi."

"I should say so. Anyway, you're in; we didn't have to be here to decide that."

"Thanks." I muttered. By this time, it was clear who's the joke really on.

"No more initiation rites for you, I guess."

I snuck a quick glance at Mitsui. He looked as though his birthday has been erased from the calendar. So that's one to zero in favor of me. I rule this turf.

Side note: I have tons of homework for Algebra and half a ton for Science and Technology. I also have a summary to do in History. I have to finish them all now. Time never stops warping like crazy. I hate to buckle under pressure but school is just giving me more than enough reason to commit suicide. I wish it were a weekend.

June 19. Monday.

A girl from my class has started sidling up to me every chance she gets and every time she's a meter within my take-up space, my irritation barometer rises to tiptop. She thinks it's "SUGOI!" that I'm in the band club though I highly doubt that she knows a shit or two about the type of songs I waste time on. A real bimbo to the max. I just keep quiet. If she asks questions, which she rarely does because all she bothers herself with are extolments in honor of me, I'm careful to keep my answers to a minimum. Yes or no would definitely do. I think.

Three-fourths of my female classmates have this thing for Mitchy the Bitch. _He is just so nice. And perfect. And of course, cute. _Gosh, I can never understand why they're so keen on stating the obvious. I hate to be around attention whores but it seems like wherever I turn to, I come across people who beg for recognition, desperately. This assumption could never be made more apparent by these girls who'd squeak and wring their hair and massacre each other every fucking time Mitsui passes.

On a much different note, I think I'm going to fail Algebra. Or rather, I decided to fail the useless subject.

June 21, Wednesday.

Club's official practice. Mitchy the Bitch's army of bimbos kind of besieged the whole room, suffocating me. I could easily guess his thoughts. Naturally, he's enjoying that kind of attention. The show-off.

We ran a couple of songs; Miyagi Ryota on the keyboard, Sakuragi on drums, The Bitch on the vocals and rhythm guitars and I on the lead guitars. The Bitch sang Dolphin's Cry so low that we almost had to repeat it one million times. If he thinks he's so cool doing that closed-mouth vocal I swear I could just mindlessly stuff Sakuragi's drumsticks all the way down to his fucking esophagus. He mumbles the words. He eats them back just as he had eaten his words when the club welcomed me. He murdered the song; he had no respect for it. And here he came saying that he couldn't follow up on my quick-paced strumming, that I'm off-beat? That Bitch. That complicated Bitch from hell.

I didn't get to finish the song to its perfection. Some senior called Kiminobu Kogure subbed in for me because The Bitch kept right on ranting as though his sole life depended on insulting me in the face. Things went smoothly after that mainly because I was no longer in the same number as him. He kicked me out, which, as it's so clear to me now, is in fact a blessing in disguise. Not quite a major drawback as I initially took it for. I can never play alongside him. I don't have to think twice to prove that.

Yet, watching him, it made me feel soothed. He's actually good...sans me. I think we are in dire need of chemistry.

And I suck at Chemistry. I suck at History, at Math, at Science, at Language to infinity. As an afterthought, music is the only thing I should care to be good at.

June 22, Thursday.

"Where is Rukawa Kaede?!" The Bitch just stomped into MY classroom. Girls and boys alike held their breath. More than six of the girls looked as though they were going to faint. You can't entirely blame them; a glorified school celebrity just walked in, looking really dissed but just as hot nonetheless.

I didn't answer though an afflatus to quiver like a pudding had long since nagged at me. Why should I in the first place? He could use being a little politer if you ask me.

"Hey, you. Stop acting like you can't hear me." The Bitch folded his arms on his chest as his silhouette towered over me. Who the fuck does he think he is?

"Mitsui, why?" By this time, everyone was pressing his ears for better feedback.

"Why?" The Bitch repeated, flinging his nasty mood at me. "And it's 'Mitsui-san' for you."

"Why, Mitsui-san?" I parroted his command. It was so much like a parody, acting the fool around him.

"Take that guitar out of its case." he hissed. Like, who is he to bitchy-boss me around like that? I did as he told me anyway what could be gained by further pretending to be deaf? I couldn't see anything wrong at first but when he asked me to check out the strings, I immediately saw what was coming.

"They're nylon strings." Mitsui said. "Are yours really nylon?"

"No. Steel."

"That's because you mistook my guitar for yours yesterday. Gads, why did you have to choose the same brand and model and design as mine?"

"I've had mine since I was thirteen."

"I've had this since I was thirteen too and because I'm older than you by two years, I've had mine longer." he huffed. "You can get yours at the music room."

He clopped off, his footsteps echoing against the absolute silence. I suddenly felt like I've been cut in half with a chain saw. This is fucking absurd; I just put my situation on the line for having an identical article with The Bitch. He hates me. He hates me for that silly thing. No, wait! He's decided to hate me long before that. What fucking ever. It's not important. I refuse to be upset, period.

Bit by bit, my classmates began circling around me. It took me seconds to realize that they wanted to know where I bought that guitar. They wanted to have one which is a twin to Mitsui Hisashi's. Well, if The Bitch thinks that I'm going to dispose of this item for his sake, he's seriously deluded. I'm going to keep/treasure my guitar whether it annoys or elates or murders him. That jerk.

TBC


	3. A Nameless Encounter

Replacement

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: AU. Rukawa, a freshman, auditions for the school band only to find a growing animosity between him and the front man. RuMitRu. Dedicated to mayfaire. On-going.

**Chapter III: A Nameless Encounter **

July 3, Monday.

Foundation Day is ominously approaching. Quite entirely by fate, I caught myself in a whirlwind of confusion and anger. The whole school knew that the Band Club is going to perform. And I hate to break it to anyone but the frenzy is all because Mitsui Hisashi is going to be the main event of the concert. He's going to sing and play the guitar, simultaneously. He's going to nail it. After all, his talent and skills are way past to die for. That's about what I've gathered after the continuous weekly sessions I had with him.

It's been two months since I joined the club. I'm already on close terms with just about everybody. At least close enough to know what years they are in. The only exception to that is of course, Mitsui. I'd leave it to you to find out why he hates me so much. As for me, I'm as clueless as a cub can go.

Today, something close to miraculous happened. No, not quite in a good way.

The class' official hottie, Takana Yuri, just asked a favor of me. Practically, she wanted me to deliver some kind of note to The Bitch. Since The Bitch and I are in the same club, Takana girl thinks that it would be an easy, mindless task for me to do. I could just say, "Hey Bitch. Some girl from my class wanted you to have this." and shove the motherfucking corny note to him. And I'm out for good. However, he hates me and it might take my life to make him accept the letter. So I declined. The girl harrumphed, far from giving up, and resorted to what I first took for empty threats. Anyway, long story short, her mother turned out to be my Language teacher; one careless signal from Yuri would mean a fat F on my report card. If I weren't sure I'm failing Algebra and Science and History, I could still afford to horse around with the girl. But since my flunking them is as eventual as the coming of four o'clock p.m., I had to play the loser's part and say yes.

So I said, yes I'm going to hand The Bitch the letter right this afternoon. Which I did, or at the very least tried to.

I found him sniggering and cracking up jokes with his mates somewhere in the first floor. It's the seniors' territory, that floor. It was around lunch time. I can tell because few people were meandering inside the building. The Bitch seemed absorbed in something and irritated by my interruption. I graciously asked him to follow me to the rooftop. In truth, I chose the rooftop because I don't think any classroom in Shohoku is able to contain his gargantuan ego. And of course I wasn't about to pocket out the stupid letter within anybody else's sight. I've embarrassed myself quite enough.

I'm not sure what prompted The Bitch to do as I told him. I can vividly recall him telling me not to order him around and this one for sure is a picture of him being outstandingly out of character. We reached the rooftop in about five minutes. We didn't say anything to each other along the way; I don't think I was capable of saying anything then apart from saying what a bitch he really is.

"I hope you didn't ask me to come here so you can beat the lights out of me." he grinned as we boarded on the sunlit floor of the rooftop.

"Why would I do that?" I stared at him and didn't wait for an answer. "Anyway, this is for you."

I fished out the letter from my pocket, anxious of how idiotic I was looking. The stationery the Tanaka girl used reeked of cheap flowery scent. Frankly I couldn't see why Mitsui wouldn't flip it away to the trash bin right after touching it. It was an outrageous sight.

"Humor me." he said. Part of his face was shaded by the shadows of the clouds. "Rather informal, don't you think?" his grin lingered on and on and I wish I could do something to make it disappear.

"What?" I gave him a dull half scowl. "Just take it."

"Okay." he simpered. He began studying the note, caressing its surface. For some reason, his expression softened, becoming irrationally emotional. I wondered deeply if it was all for show. "I didn't know you're inclined that way."

"What are you talking about?"

"It seems like it's a big deal for you, my taking this letter."

"It is. Just read it." I snapped, ready to blow my torch.

"Alright." he smiled. "and although I have to say that you have a really poor taste when it comes to color and patterns--"

"Wait a minute. It's not from me. Some girl from my class wanted me to deliver it to you." I affirmed. How could he ever think that that was from me? For crying out loud!

The smile vanished from his face as it began showing all the emotion of an ice pick. He seemed angry, disappointed, hurt; he seemed like he was never going to smile like he did a minute ago.

"You're saying that you dragged me away from my friends just so you can give me this? What, you're gonna give up the band club to be the new Shohoku delivery boy?" he blared. Some people are born to look like a bitch and look well that way. Mitsui isn't one of them; he looks stubbornly horrific when he does that.

"I didn't say that and I'm sorry for the disruption. Why don't you just take the fucking letter so we can leave this place?" So I could leave you now?

"I'm so sorry to disappoint you but I can't."

"But you were just about to a while ago. Don't you ever take letters?" I said.

"I'm not going to take that, particularly that one, because _you_ delivered it."

"What?"

He might be insane. Purely insane. Millions of thoughts ran through my head as I mentally replayed the line over and over again. I always knew he hated my guts but prior to that I'd never heard those evidential words come out of his mouth. As a result, I was shocked, locked in a standstill. Is he that insecure? Hell, I'm nowhere near his talents. I'm off his rivalry zone, way off. And if this was about our having the similar guitars, I have to say he is really immature. Either that or he must be some runaway lunatic asylum patient.

"You heard me." he whispered. There was a change in his tone this time; it mellowed down a notch, but his face was just as fierce as, if not fiercer than, it had been. He leaned closer to me, backing me up against the wall. I wanted to ask somewhat if he'd forgotten that I was taller and the owner of a better built but realized almost instantly that that would just make as much a jerk as he is. When there was no more space to recede on, he touched my shoulder with his right hand, peered closer and closer, put his mouth against my ear and began chanting my name.

"Kaede... Kaede... Kaede..." First name basis just like that. His voice was as playful as the wind. I was as gullible as a duck.

"What are you doing? Will you stop that?" Losing control, I yanked him away shortly after he started combing his fingers through my hair. He bounced off a few feet and as he regained his stance, I saw that he was grinning rather pleasurably.

"What's wrong with you?" he snickered, fixing his collar. "Did you think I was gonna kiss you?"

In fact, yes. Anyone who's gotten that close to someone else almost always plans to kiss the latter. And yet, of course, it was all a big joke. His big cruel joke wherein I play the harlequin. I couldn't help glaring menacingly.

"Are you so furious at me now?" he asked, not quite in entreaty. It wouldn't take a genius to see that he was mocking me in earnest.

"Fuck you, Bitch." I said and marched off. I didn't look back or delay my flight for I was scared of what I might do to him. I was so sick of finding my way in the unknown regions of his game. I wanted to be alone again, far away from his pervasive presence, alone with time which would help me mend my scattered wits. Once in peace, I recognized a painful, urgent squirming behind my chest.

I bet I'm smoked the next time I bump into him.

TBC


	4. Bold Presumptions

Replacement

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: AU. Rukawa, a freshman, auditions for the school band only to find a growing animosity between him and the front man. RuMitRu. Dedicated to mayfaire. On-going.

**Chapter IV: Bold Presumptions **

July 5, Wednesday

I can easily describe this day as a combination of bad humor and lousy situations. The overload in school projects simply topped the rest. Every now and then, I get the feeling that I'd soon catch my death what with the heap of homework being piled on top of me. I have sincerely no idea why the teachers would choose the world's shittiest time for this. But screw that. I spent the next two days trying so hard to avoid him. The session went on for a whole eternity. I kept my head down as often as possible. I was so mad to ever be able to describe how much hatred was dancing inside me. I'm going to be kicked out of this fucking school for failing four subjects. I wouldn't have flunked Language under more facile circumstances but all thanks to Mitsui, I'm going to anyway.

"Something wrong, Rukawa?" Finally someone took notice of my mumness. It was the ever so thoughtful Kiminobu Kogure.

"Nothing." I declared but seeing that that wasn't quite enough and that the silence inside the room was too inviting, I went on, "except that I'm leaving Shohoku the next term." Which isn't really wrong; it would be a welcome relief, somehow.

"What?" the members cried in unison. "but why?" What a stupid fucking question.

"Because I'm failing more than three subjects, because I failed to deliver a _letter_." I muttered, wanting my words to sound as cool as possible.

At any rate, that successfully netted The Bitch's attention. He stopped polishing his stupid guitar and stealthily stared in my direction. As if I couldn't feel his eyes burning a hole on me.

"Hold on; you're going to be expelled?"

"That's about the size of it." I said blankly and stood up at the same time. "See you around."

I hope he's happy now that he's officially and serially and regularly orchestrating the ruin my life.

Back in the classroom, some kind of cheap, diversified rumor began circulating. It appeared that my delivery express leaked to the whole school. Now every single person more or less thinks that I've got the hots for Mitsui, who ironically also happens to be the capital bitch of my life. The intrigue is further intensified by the fact that I have the same guitar with the senior and that I entered the club. Now everybody thinks I'm freaky queer. Great. Just when you thought no one was watching. Don't I just love it when people leap to the weakest conclusion? Just great.

July 6, Thursday

It was around three-thirty when the Tanaka girl came to me. She wasn't entirely happy about the letter fiasco, nor with the filthy gossips about me, and carefully did her best to humiliate me every chance she got these past few days. But today, as I was about to find out, she was extra nice.

"I think I owe you some hearty thanks."

I looked at her. None of her features suggested that she was fooling around. She seemed sincere. I held my silence.

"Mitsui-san apologized to me for rejecting the letter you delivered. And I suppose I should express my gratitude to you."

"He apologized to you?" I said, incredulous, my forehead creasing. There was a sudden shortage of vocabulary; how come that jerk was apologizing? _I spent my long, lonely school days skulking over how badly he treats me and here he comes apologizing to a girl that doesn't mean a single thing to him? If there's someone who deserves a well-said apology from The Bitch, it's none other than me! _

"Yeah. I'm really sorry, Rukawa." she said in what must've been an honest display of sympathy. "Tell you what, I'm going to tell my mom not to fail you."

"For the record, that's the least you can do." I muttered and the restraint with which I scooped up my words made me sound resignedly satirical.

"I'm really sorry and... thanks." she has started walking away when she remembered something. "Rukawa?"

"Hm?"

"If someone asked you if Mitsui-san and I are dating, neither confirm nor deny it, okay?"

I flashed her my perpetually monotonous face. Her smile was meaningful and, as I've instantly noted, as ugly as anything burned and dilapidating.

"Let those girls envy me and damn me behind my back. It would make my day." She proclaimed wistfully. What a maniac. "Okay?"

Yeah whatever. I don't want to talk about how insipid that was. I sat quietly in my chair, thinking about what the girl said. The thought wouldn't just leave me. Why does it feel like I was the one he apologized to? And if that's the case, in what way would I benefit from it? For all the world knows, he hates me to the core. Actually, the feeling has quite become mutual.

I hardly took a shower this day. I don't want to see the person in the mirror. I'm afraid of the confrontation that might occur. Most of all, I would hate to witness that kind of blank disappointment whose possible recipient is me. Only me. I've been harassed enough by the people around me without myself joining in the charade. And yes, the only vision it would produce inside my head is Mitsui's face, haughtily demanding to know if I'm in love with him.

Am I, now? Suppose I am, why don't I know when it all began and when it's going to end?

July 7, Friday. Foundation Day. 

7:00 a.m.

First time in my history that I broke a personal, long-running protocol: I arrived on time. The band club is going to perform a total of seven songs, five of which would be led by, you got that right, The Bitch. I would be playing separately; even Akagi has the good sense to do that. He probably has sniffed out the tensions between me and the prima donna. I have no problems with that. At least there would be peace this time.

8:15 a.m.

Bimbos abound the gym. Sakuragi and the others are fixing the amps. I'm practicing my chords in the backstage. I'm going to play Run by Collective Soul (other times this would seem as a class-less insult) which only requires three notes and Closer to You by The Wallflowers, which is a little challenging. I can't wait for this to be over.

8:50 a.m.

I'm done. I did well despite the fact that I couldn't put both heart and mind on the show. I can just split home now but Akagi sempai wants everybody to stay until the band's performance is over. This only means that I'm going to have to bear witness to Mitsui's ego escapade. I can never understand why, not when there are a hundred of sluts who are ready to feed The Bitch's bravado.

9:15 a.m.

For some reason I could never comprehend, he descended down the stage to abandon the vocals to Miyagi. He was halfway through the song list. He was doing everyone a favor by entertaining them with his awesome/phenomenal music and then he stamped away? He's gotta have a sore throat or something deadly to justify his recklessness. He just doffed off his guitar and disappeared. Gosh, I wouldn't be surprised if Akagi didn't toast him.

Ignoring my better instincts, I fumbled ahead and looked for him. After pointlessly surveying the parking lot, I found him emerging behind the baseball field's fence.

"I knew you'd look for me." he said casually as though he was just asking me what fragrance I prefer. He was flexing his fingers ritually, like they've been grilled down by too much, too continuous strumming.

"Excuse me?" I nearly winced. _Puh-lease. Not everyone is going to throw himself at you. The exclusion is smack right in front of you. _

"Is there something you want to say to me?" he said. The slow rise and fall of his chest marked that he was relaxed, at least too positively relaxed for someone who just properly killed a stage performance.

"You disappointed the crowd." I replied, wishing that time would spiral backwards and make me debunk my insipid decision to follow him up to there.

"Me? Were you even watching? They're crazy about me." The Bitch strung out the words with the same interest he'd show a newspaper's business section. His eyes reflected a dull light.

"You disappointed them because you left suddenly." I clarified. Such a doofus.

"It gets boring. I mean, it's boring for me, standing there singing my heart out minutes after minutes. I'm not a jukebox, you know."

He yawned just then as if to indicate how bored he really was. I stared at him, scorning every bit of him as much as my screwed-up faculty could allow. Tell me, what is the difference between him and a jukebox? He sings so he can show off and a jukebox sings for coins. I can't quite draw the line. I can't believe I really worriedly searched for him.

"You're just bored... how lame." I mumbled. Given half the chance, I would've knocked him out flat if that meant unshackling him from the plague he called boredom.

"Never mind that. You did well up there."

"The songs I played are too easy."

"What do you expect? Hotel California? Geez. Anyway, you still keeping your guitar?"

"Natch. And just some words for you to remember, I'm not going to throw it away or stop bringing it to school. I just wish you'd lose yours so mine would be alone." I grumbled as though the thought just occurred to me. But it didn't; I've been yearning for quite a time to say these words to him.

"Alright. That's...wild." he chuckled. "but you know, it's extremely unlikely that I'd get rid of it. I value that instrument. A very special person gave it to me as a present."

I stared at him and discovered that he'd stopped looking bored. A faint trace of smile began appearing on his lips; he's just so alluring when he does that that you can easily forgive him for it, it has to be said. At the same instant, my heart seemed to have skipped a beat. I felt my blood crawling up to my cheeks and on such a bright day, it came to me, his chances of missing it would be pretty slim.

"I'm going." I said and left him to dick around with himself. The longer I stretched the distance between us, the heavier I felt, the vaguer my feelings become. Why was the encounter hurting me so? Why is the distance between us running longer and wider?

And why do all hopes seem to dissolve on their own? In the recesses of my mind, I long to find who's the "special person" who gave him that accursed guitar.

TBC

Disclaimer: Wallflowers and Collective Soul are real-time artists. They're not mine. I only hope, constantly.


	5. Unpredicted Consequences and Status Quos

Replacement

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: AU. Rukawa, a freshman, auditions for the school band only to find a growing animosity between him and the front man. RuMitRu. Dedicated to mayfaire. On-going.

A/N: This part may take extra minutes to finish, but I would advice you to read it through and through because this is about the most crucial chapters of the six.

**Chapter V: Unpredicted Consequences and Status Quos **

July 10, Monday

The rumor that Tanaka and Mitsui are dating has reached its peak. It's off the hook and ballooning. Its repercussions are phenomenally fun. Girls have started mourning for whatever good it might do them. I started smirking. This seems to have overshadowed the creepier, more perverted rumors about me. By now, the whole school has forgotten all about it, to my endless delight. She has all the joy life has to offer: she's The Bitch's pseudo-girlfriend!

I was concretely enjoying this for a while and anything that ensured my safety from thoughts concerning Mitsui was all that mattered.

For a while, I emphasize.

Our grades for the half term have been released. All C-'s, except for a couple of F's. Not the best marks imaginable, really. I'm sure this would entail grievously long sermons from my mom. Argh.

July 12, Wednesday

Band Club meeting. It preserved its monotony till the end, till Miyagi, Sakuragi and I were the only ones left in the room.

"What do you think is the matter with Mitsui?" Miyagi said to Sakuragi, who was idly reclining in the office chair.

"Seems rather gloomy lately. No idea. Have you noticed anything, Rukawa?" Sakuragi turned to me.

"Now that you've mentioned it, yeah." I replied. Come to think of it, Mitsui was being less talkative than usual.

"Must be because the club moderator rejected his rendition of Black." Miyagi said.

"Black?" I blurted out, unable to conceal my surprise. I thought he hated that song! He definitely didn't look anywhere near liking it when I sang it. _Hell, what is the meaning of this? _

Miyagi, who seemed to have received my query's signal, went on, "Mitsui worships that song and the band who released it. I think it's also the reason why he didn't want you in the band at first; he doesn't want anyone else crooning it. You know Staind's cover of the song? He cursed it to no end. I think it's some sort of a theme song for him. You know, he had a girlfriend in the band club before but she already graduated and they broke up, not before cracks began appearing on their relationship's surface. It hit him hard."

"So," Sakuragi started, rubbing his chin as though he just unearthed a precious piece of ancient artifact. "the star is hurting. Memories hurt him. What can we do to cheer him up?"

"At this point? Nah. He needs time; he's stopped trying to get over and one year is barely enough. If we petition for the song to be included in the play list, that may improve his mood. Gosh, his temper sucks."

"Product of a bruised ego." Sakuragi said.

"And a broken heart." Miyagi added. As he said this I felt the weight of my body go out of me, an indentation somewhere inside my heart expanding.

I said goodbye to both soon after that. I don't think I'd be able to handle another revelation about Mitsui. It's all perfectly clear to me now; the un-described origin of his abnormal disposition toward me, the rotten treatment and rude encounters. I desecrated something he loves at the very first meeting. And as they invariably say, first impressions last. I would have to pay for what I've done, no matter how innocently I've done it. He thinks that I reminded him of something he's been trying to forget and how dare I, right? Then, because I did it all the way anyway, he decided to ride with it. What the hell. Nothing was going to make him forget. Let him sing the fucking song. But then, the moderator rejected his request and his heart has been doubly shattered and rattled. I can't say I'm wholly blameless in this.

I always tell myself that I'd stay away from things that would prove hard to get rid of someday. Lately, and it took me quite long to realize this, I've been doing nothing but to create knots and knots around me. I shouldn't have joined this stupid club. All I ever got from it is heartbreak, being underappreciated, being narrowed down to elementary guitar chords, let alone being stressed. All around me feel so distant, so unrealistically awful. Why does everything have to go wrong for me? I'm overcome with a feeling that has no defined outlines. There's so much pain and so little meaning.

Is it true that I've fallen in love with him? And if that's the case, why now when he hates me so? Why not under much lighter circumstances? In another world and era?

Tonight I made up my mind. I'm going to bail the fuck out of the club and be gone forever. And please excuse the sap.

PS. I haven't shown my mom my report card. I'm feeling berated enough as it is. Days suck out of proportion, it has to be said.

July 17, Monday

"You! Follow me." He just materialized at the doorway like a randomly sprouting mushroom. A few of my classmates who hovered nearby were all momentarily speechless. Even I couldn't think of any reason why he'd pounce on me like a lion on a deer. It was break time. Thankfully, half of my classmates were away on some flirting spree outside and hence, didn't have to witness the juicy spectacle.

I tailed him to the corridor, feeling like I'm trudging all seven ways to inferno. We descended down two flight of stairs. En route, he slackened his pace, ceased ambling altogether and spun around to face me.

"I'll say this now so you wouldn't be surprised later on; you have more to be scared of than you can see." he seethed the words, mildly letting out squirts of poison. _Now what kind of preaching am I in for this time? _

I just raised my eyebrows. Really, just what is 'bad' in his vocabulary? What could be possibly worse than the shit he's been constantly and obsessively throwing at me? At that time, being intimidated was the least of my concern.

We braked in front of an ember-red door on which a sign that read "Counselor's Office" hung. He motioned me to get inside quickly. I began frowning as if to question his authority.

"I'm a friend of the counselor's. She lets me have a duplicate key. Now sit down." he barked and pulled a chair, producing a loud thunk on the floor as it skidded hoarsely on it. I obsequiously followed. "Recently I've been the victim of a most grotesque rumor. Any idea what it's about?"

"No leads."

He made an exaggerated shrug and edged closer to me. "I just want you to get the current facts straight. Say, it turned out that I've been going out with that Tanaka girl from your class. I believe she's the owner of the letter you once tried to hand to me perforce. Now," he bent down so he could be at the same level with my head. I noticed that he only looked cool in a distance; upon closer proximity he looked halfway bothered and puzzled. He then slapped his hand on the table. "Is it true that you are partly responsible for spreading the stupid gossip? You can deny for as long as you want but just this; this has your stink all over it."

"So? She's hot. I don't see anything wrong with being involved with her, fabricated or not. Truth to tell, I'd switch with you anytime." I said more arrogantly than I intended. Nevertheless, it certainly took all my courage to say those things.

Mitsui unleashed a strained laughter, which might have been brewing with sarcasm underneath. "One to ten, I should give you a nine for saying things that'd make me split your head open. Just who are you to assign my girlfriends? And what do you mean by 'there's nothing wrong with that'? What do you know about the headaches I've been incurring? Maybe you are that clueless, but since you fired up your monkey wrench I've never had a moment's peace!"

"What, you forcibly brought me here just to tell me that you've been having tough days? Please, don't talk to me about tough days. I've had more than my fair share of them since you started bitching out on me. And that's not to add that I, too, have been a constant prey to filthy rumors. And yeah, I've learned only little more about music than I did when I first came here. Thanks." I sneered, too torn out about latching on the merest chance to out-argue him.

"So...you've been roughed out because of me, huh? I could hardly wonder; the world has gone horseshit anyway. But at least I don't proliferate cheap lies like you do. Why did you even do it anyway? Do you care so much about that Tanaka bitch? Are you in love with her?" he was mocking me again.

"Shut up. I don't give a shit about what you say anymore." I said dismissively.

There was a pause, elastic and lasting, that lingered _stickily_ inside the room. He let out a low cough. It seemed like no amount of effort would break the ice.

"Just tell me why you did it." for the first time, I saw a tinge of seriousness cast over his face. The atmosphere suddenly shifted, assuming a gentler, more gradual turn. Did he think I would proffer an apology?

"I was sick of all the rumors about me and you. You know, my entering the band club, my giving you a letter and having the same guitar. People were horrendously misconceiving everything I did. They were so persistent in finding out if I really fancied you. Imagine how annoying that was for me. Then the Tanaka girl asked me to encourage the gossip about her going out with you. And I was like, 'Why not?' It would surely override the silly gossips about me." I ventured.

"So in short, you hate to be the object of my fans' envy. Wow, you sure are something."

Slurring over his pun, I proceeded, "Mitsui-san, I'm sorry about everything. I'm going to tell everybody that it was all a big stunt. Let all this be over."

"And relive the tabloid shit about you having a big fat crush on me?" He spat, his words sounding like some other term for death.

"None of that matters now."

"None of that matt..." his words trailed off guard, his normally idle eyes squinting, "What do you mean?"

"I already quit the band club so of course everything will fall into place. No more me and you in the same room, breathing the same air, no more contacts and all that jazz. I transferred to the reading club, which I know is the last place you'll catch yourself being in--"

"What? Why the fuck did you do that?" he half-yelled. There was panic in his eyes.

"Shouldn't you be pleased now? This is what you've been driving at all along, right? Trying to kick me out of the band. How weak."

"Sometimes I suspect you have more jelly in your brain than cells. Since when did I say that I want you out of the group?" he was glaring at me. I could hardly believe he was capable of that kind of facial contortion. I could hardly believe that was the person that grabbed my heart and never let go since.

"No, it's not even about that. I abhor being on these terms with you. You see, from the beginning, there has been this tug-of-war between us. I realized, little by little, that I won't be able to last here unless I keep you at bay. One would have to go and that's me. You've been in the club for nearly three years now while I'm only at a sketchy start. Both of us may have some kind of attachment to music but yours, yours is special. You can play anything and I, on the other hand, am only good at one instrument. So I guess, it's only fair that I'm the one who's going to resign." I said. I wanted so much to tell him that I could no longer stand fighting for something I can't grasp, something so enormous.

"Don't try to be noble. You didn't have to go through all this difficulty. And if you really love music, you would just ignore or even tolerate the way I fare with you."

"I would but then I realized many things."

"What things?"

"That you're disgusted with me, that I could never be spared by your indifference," I sighed reluctantly as I dished out my last worn-out defense. Saying those words strangely fatigued me and in spite of myself I began sweating like a Popsicle in hell. It should be over then.

"I'm disgusted with you? I'm indifferent?" Mitsui said faintly. His eyelids were fluttering and his pupils seemed to be confused as to which object to rest themselves on. "Rukawa, you're such a stupid dense prat." Soon as he finished saying it, he grabbed my wrist. Something quite apart from the ordinary began transpiring in total violation of known logic. Everything was happening so fast, all caution lost, the seconds rushing out in quantities, mingling with their precedents to never return. I could barely keep track of everything; for all I know, our lips fused, almost instinctively and hungrily, and we were both on cloud nine. Only the thin sunlight reminded me of the world outside the building. I didn't dare open my eyes, afraid that once I came to the world, the moment would crumble apart like a fantastic dream. I could feel his hand gripping the back of my blouse as the other traveled slowly up to my neck. Minutes cruised and zoned out, perhaps prolonging to eternity. I held on to his arms, sloppily balancing myself in his embrace, as I responded to the graceful movements of his mouth on mine.

Then, rationality landed on top of me, shaking me anew. Everything started turning quite askew: He wasn't in the least in love with me, that much I was fully aware. He was still in the process of loving his ex-girlfriend, trying to get over; and I was simply a part of the scheme and this kiss merely a channel for his darker emotions. The world uptilted, comets colliding, galactic movements sliding to a stop. I brusquely thrust him away even before I could think of an explanation.

"What?" he frowned. His expression was very dissimilar with the typical mocking one he frequently sported. He seemed very mottled, very conservatively perplexed.

"You jerk." was all I could say. There was nothing more to say that wouldn't sound less retarded so what the hell.

He grinned and suddenly, he was The Bitch I so detested. "You enjoyed it. You wanted me to do it."

"No, you pervert. You were thinking about _her. _I'll have none of this anymore. I'm out." I blithered, stealing my exit move.

But quick as a thunderbolt he blocked my passage to the door. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying that this joke of yours is lame and miserably failing to make me laugh." I scoffed and exed my arms on my chest, which was no shelter from his caprice as he could easily try to rape me again.

"What, you wanted a funny kiss? Personally I wouldn't waste my time making a laughingstock out of a kiss but if that's what you want then I guess there's no problem. Or are you just dissatisfied? We can go back from the start; hell, I gave my best. I didn't know it wasn't cutting it out for you. I didn't know you wanted _that _much from me--"

Slap. I punched him across the face with all my might, without curbing my force. I haven't given someone a blow that hard in years. He had recoiled a few feet. I stared back at him and I could almost pity the reddish stain on his cheek. But the holistic image, the entrance of his features in the picture, just made me take that back.

"Congratulations for hurting me." I snorted, my words sounding like they were coming back from afar. "I don't want to see your fucking face ever again. I don't want to hear your name anymore. Showtime's over: We're over!"

I took no chances and hauled myself away as fast I could. For a split second I thought I saw a hurt look on his face as he massaged the sore spot. But maybe that was just me. Maybe it was just a little part of him that felt pain, a part that wasn't solid after all. Maybe that pain is what I hoped to see there. As I left him, I felt that anger was still waltzing in circles inside me, but at that time it was memorably tempered with some kind of intention. An intention to put all these segments of humiliation behind me.

Was I hankering for more? His words indeed run deep.

I've never had such a bittersweet confrontation. I've never been left so undone.

TBC

A/N: Sorry for the long chapter. While writing this, I realized that I really, really had to make it long not only for practical purposes but for the sake of developing the story. Thus far, this is the least nonsensical of all the chapters. I think.


	6. Doubletake

Replacement

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: AU. Rukawa, a freshman, auditions for the school band only to find a growing animosity between him and the front man. RuMitRu. Dedicated to mayfaire. On-going.

**Final Chapter: Doubletake**

July 28, Friday

I gave it my best to steer clear of him. I saw as little of him as possible during the first few days; at one point, though, I stopped seeing anything of him at all. Nobody said a single thing about my resignation. My former club mates would pass me by the corridors, swap greetings with me and traipse away as though nothing happened. I've become a taboo, basking in my position and savoring the non-attention. Everything was going smoothly until Ryota Miyagi sought me out this afternoon.

"We need a replacement for the upcoming Recognition Day. I hope you could come." he said. His face was oddly set in implicit graveness.

"I'm out of the club, remember?"

"Don't be daft; I remember, of course. But we can still afford a guest performer, right? So we choose you."

I glanced at him. One look was all it took to tell that something wasn't quite right.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Well," he paused, as if carefully deliberating which words to choose. "Mitsui's stopped coming to the meetings. He hasn't been himself lately and we all doubt if he's going to make it to the event. We all agreed that you're the one best suited for the position he left."

"Mitsui's no longer in the band?"

"Mmh. Not officially; he hasn't submitted his resignation yet. But if he continues this way, Akagi and the moderator wouldn't put it past firing him on the spot. That's for certain."

"Since when has he been like this?"

"On or around Monday last week. Not really one hundred percent sure. Anyway, you coming?"

"Alright." I replied thoughtlessly. "Do you know why he...?"

Miyagi studied me for half a moment. Part of me was taking pleasure from the potential devastation this may cause Mitsui's fangirls; part of me, however, felt unreadable.

"Uhm, I hate to blurt out his personals but--well, since you're doing the club a lifetime favor I suppose it's okay." he stammered. "From what I've heard, he has been--as irrational as this sounds--_dumped_."

"Dumped?"

"Dumped. Ditched. Busted. He's been sulking ever since." Miyagi pronounced awkwardly. He seemed unwilling to go on with the subject. "So it's confirmed then; you're coming?"

"Yes, sempai."

"Right. Thanks a bunch."

So Mitsui has been dumped. Why the hell did the tale sound so familiar? So genuine? Do I know the person who dumped him?

Come to think of it, I did say we were over. At that instant, I did want to cement my thoughts from him, to barricade his existence far away from mine. All because I thought he refused to love me. I wish I were being reasonable but in reality, I hardly was.

July 29, Saturday

I can't hold out much longer. What if something inexplicably bad really happened to Mitsui? What if I have something to do with it? Harmful thoughts such as these wouldn't vacate my mind. They slashed through every nerve, every square inch and every gram of my body.

There's only one way to solve this. I have to talk to him. The sooner the better.

July 30, Sunday

I was able to obtain his address via a classmate. A fan in particular. It appeared that Mitsui lives somewhere along Kurosawa Street.

The morning was fog-shrouded, slightly sun-lit and all the way cloudy. Fallen leaves, half shorn away on the streets, circled in command of the wind. I roused as early as possible. By seven o'clock I was pretty much done with my morning routine. I systematically heft the garage's door, rigged out my bike, mounted on it and zoomed off the street. The closer I got to Mitsui's residence, the heavier my weight seemed to become, the harder it was to pedal my way on the pavement. I was having the most bugging second thoughts about this whole business of confronting him but each time I wheeled around, a kind of magnet seemed to cart me closer to Mitsui. It was essential that I talked to him then, a complete and utter necessity on both our parts.

I parked my bike opposite the fence of his house and slanted it against the curb. The place seemed extraordinarily quiet as if a solemn occurrence took place there on a daily basis. If there was such a thing as utter lifelessness, it must be this. The gate was partway open, indicating a free-for-all access. The house, two-story with a wide porch, stood in gloomy contrast to the much-alive environment.

I strode in, just as intimidated to do it as to not to. The only sound I made was the snicks and rustles my soles made against the Bermuda grass. I walked further, anxious to find out if anybody was home. But the silence rolled on and on and for a moment, I was more than sure that the place had been abandoned by its occupants many years before.

"Where do you think you're going?" A rigid, toneless voice sprung from behind me.

Alerted, I scrambled around. Mitsui Hisashi's spotless profile was standing right in front of me, maybe just short of some hair's breadth away. He looked pallid, troubled, bewildered and yet, calm. He took a step forward, reducing the distance between us to an arm's length. Upon longer examination, his eyes glimmered stark against the shadows. Something seemed to flicker on his pupils' surface, like they were beseeching mine to understand. Then, without further actions, he outstretched an arm to me and without caring what I would say, or how I'd react, he sank me into a deep kiss amidst the vibrating dances of the breeze. I didn't resist. I figured it would be too late then, knowing that he knew that's precisely what I wanted.

"Rukawa,"

"Yeah?"

"Do you...love me?"

"Yeah."

"I understand."

Gradually, I wiggled free from his embrace to get a clear glimpse of his face. He looked renewed, finally.

"I saw you from the porch. You were looking so determined to talk to me. I thought you'd beat me up."

"Why would I beat you up?"

"I don't know. I suppose I've been the kind of bastard that needs all the beating he can get."

"You were, yes. But not anymore." I said. "Were you skipping the band sessions because of me?"

"Yeah. I thought you meant it when you said you didn't want to see me anymore. I got depressed all of a sudden and didn't want to do anything anymore."

"Actually I meant it at the time... because I believed you were just playing. Somebody from the band told me you were still deeply hurt by your break-up with your past girlfriend."

"Somebody said that? He must know nothing about me if that's the case. That girl, when we were together, we both were just too conscious of the fact that we were getting nowhere. It rarely hurt when she left."

"But Black was your theme song, right? You were enraged when I covered it on the audition."

"It wasn't like that. And Black is never fit for a love theme song. It's true that we always sang it together, but it never quite crossed my mind that the song was meant for us. Damn, I love that song. And when you sang it, I have to say, you were great."

"But why didn't you want to let me in to the club?"

"I think I kind of panicked, to put it simply. Seeing you again naturally sent me into a tizzy. "

"I don't think I understand."

"No, I don't think you would." he exhaled deeply, as if he was about to enter a gladiator match. "I saw you perform on stage two years ago, at a junior high gig. You were performing that self-same version. You looked so eased up from where I stood and I thought, even I couldn't render the song just like that. I thought you were awesome. Funky. That's when I fell in love with you."

"At a junior high gig a couple of years ago?"

"Yeah. Plus, we had the same guitar. Mine was a present from my dad who already passed away. Plus, we loved the same song. And last but not least, you came to the same school. Rukawa, don't you think the coincidences are just freaky?"

"Yeah, but in a good way."

"Yes. They brought us together." he said and in a swift automatic gesture of affection, he held out his hand to me. I took it gratefully.

"Will you be coming back to school now?" I asked.

"I guess so. Miyagi's been leaving raving messages on the phone about the Recognition Day. Do you think you can help me clean up the mess and collaborate with me on a number?"

"Uh-huh. That would be great."

That's when the smile I fell in love with broke on his face. The formerly hostile features of his countenance relaxed into what must've been a pure, unadulterated arrangement. Uncertainty changed into security; animosity melted into love; and anger dwindled into obscurity. There, bathed under the soft sunlight, misunderstanding disappeared with confusion, leaving no trace behind.

I think it's time I write a song for him.

END

A/N: Yeah, yeah. I have the audacity to use Pearl Jam's and Live's godly singles here. Well, they're great songs and I'm only too glad to utilize them when need arises. Anyhow, I think the last chapter is my least favorite of all the six installments. I didn't enjoy writing this one bit; personally, it's the weakest link of this fic. But I wanted to goddamn finish this on or before Christmas because my life after that date is nonexistent. Sorry if the ending seemed absurdly abrupt. I'm juiced out. Reviews would be nice, I guess. And thank you very much for reading.


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